Rebirth
by Bemused Writer
Summary: Lacie and Glen have a strange conversation in an even stranger environment. Contains a cameo of Oswald, and mild LacieXRevis!Glen.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Pandora Hearts._

**Warning:** Contains some disturbing imagery/symbolism, and some spoilers for recent chapters.

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><p>Rebirth<p>

It was an impossibly arid day when Glen announced he would be hosting a party for the neighboring Houses. Lacie stood in the shadows of a pillar, one of many that kept the extravagant dome of a ceiling from crashing down. She looked around and spotted her brother, Oswald, on the balcony overlooking the proceedings. Guarding Glen from above like some kind of grim gargoyle, she thought with bitter humor.

As soon as Glen was done with his little speech Lacie exited through the nearest egress she could find, and maneuvered her way through the twisting hallways to a surprisingly humble door.

This particular door looked distinctly out of place compared to the heavily ornate architecture the rest of the House delighted in. Lacie supposed that was part of its charm.

As she stepped over the threshold and down the uneven stair steps, she wondered how long it would be before Oswald figured out where she had gone. She had agreed to play chess with him afterwards, so he was bound to be looking for her.

She let out a sigh of contentment when she finally reached her destination: the dungeon. Lacie usually preferred the spacious outdoors, or the tower that would bring her closer to the untouchable liberties of the skies, but whenever it got too warm like it was today, or when Lacie found herself in a particularly spiteful mood, she would retreat to the dank coolness of the earth.

The dungeon was pregnant with the musty scent of decay, and Lacie fancied she had been born from this place, for this place; she would be returning to this place very soon.

There were only two torches lit down here, so details were difficult to make out. Lacie had a powerful imagination, though, and anything she wasn't sure of she would simply visualize for herself.

She strolled down the long corridor as she looked about at the cells lining the walls all neat and orderly. Manacles lie forgotten on the ground; it had been so long since anyone had actually been locked down here, but the dungeon kept its memories of its children close to its bosom, and Lacie wondered if she could do the same.

Lacie had been down here so frequently she wasn't bothered by her near blindness and she could sidestep puddles with a practiced ease as she trekked to her final destination. At the very end of the corridor was a nailed-down bench. Lacie supposed this had been for the guard when he grew tired of standing.

There was a loud dripping sound that echoed all throughout the dungeons, so Lacie didn't notice when a pair of footsteps caught up to her. As such she was taken completely by surprise when a pair of arms snaked their way around her waist, and a bony chin rested itself on her shoulder.

"You know, Oswald hates it when you come down here." Lacie stamped out her instinct to assault the intruder when she recognized the lilting voice as belonging to Glen Baskerville.

"That is unfortunate," she replied stiffly, having not quite forgiven him for sneaking up on her. She had intended on having a seat to quietly mull over things, but it seemed that wouldn't be happening.

Glen let out a puff of air; Lacie interpreted it as a chuckle. "Indeed, he's missing out on some delightful scenery."

Lacie almost missed the subtly playful tone the head of the Baskervilles had deemed to take. As was typical of her interactions with Glen she couldn't tell if she was supposed to be flattered or immensely annoyed. She settled on a bit of both.

"What do you want?" She kept her tone even so as not to encourage more flirtatious behavior, and to definitely _discourage _any teasing. She wasn't in the mood for Glen's whimsical nature.

Catching the hint Glen released her from his embrace, and Lacie turned to face him properly. She didn't bother to curtsy.

The torches had gotten dimmer. Heavy shadows were draped about them; Lacie could barely make out Glen's face, and she couldn't be sure what his expression was.

Glen seemed to size her up before saying, "I was wondering what you thought of the party I will be hosting."

"I don't care about your parties; you know that. I never attend anyway." Lacie replied with thinly-veiled disdain.

"I suppose that's true. There's no reason for you to avoid them, though." Lacie gave a withering glare at that. Nobody wanted her to join, and she wasn't fond of idle gossip. "So I was wondering if you would attend with me."

Now this was decidedly unexpected. Glen had never invited her to any of his parties, and he rarely managed to keep his promise to take her out to see the city. Lacie wondered if he was getting senile, if he was feeling sentimental about her.

"As your _date?_"

"If you'd like to see it that way."

"That's absurd."

"Is it?" Glen asked, his words laced with amusement, and maybe even a touch of bitterness. Lacie was sorely tempted to laugh in his face. What right did he have to feel any dissatisfaction? If he was feeling something like regret over his actions and his little experiment it was far too late for him to make amends now.

(Lacie knew he could never feel real regret, though. He'd once told her that the distortion around him had been there so long his emotions were like faded ghosts.)

Glen seemed to interpret her brooding silence as a refusal of his offer, and he let out a sigh. "I was afraid you would say no."

Neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound was the echoing _drip _that was impossible to locate.

Lacie studied Glen's face as best she could in the darkness; she figured he was good-looking enough though his personality was another matter entirely. She didn't know what she felt for him outside of loyalty, the same loyalty all Baskervilles felt.

Perhaps it was loyalty that made her speak up. Surely it couldn't have been anything else.

"Do you know why I come here?"

Glen tilted his head in bemusement. "I suppose not."

"You once told me my child would continue to live when I'm gone in the womb of the Abyss, cradled in darkness. I come down here to see what that will be like."

Glen drew in a breath, but Lacie didn't allow him to speak.

"It's not just that, though. There's something peaceful about this place; it feels nostalgic somehow, and it's too warm upstairs."

They relapsed once more into the safer territory of silence. Lacie felt perturbed she had admitted all that to Glen. She had never even told Oswald about it. Maybe she was the one who felt sentimental.

"Well, even if you won't come to the party would you care to dance with me now? I don't have much else to do for the time being." He extended his hand to her with a slight bow.

Lacie accepted and gripped his hand a little tighter than necessary; it was hard to see, and she was suddenly afraid of what might lurk in the shadows.

As they performed a simple waltz, Lacie imagined they were in a ballroom surrounded by other dancers. Their clothes were rotting, and their faces were grinning skulls. They were all looking at her, and they were expectant. Waiting. Waiting for her to birth another member for their dance.

She and Glen were performing a Dance of Death. A Dance that would be continued by their child in the Abyss.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

I'm thinking I may turn this into a story of one shots centered on Lacie, Glen, Oswald, and Jack, or I may just continue to post my one shots separately. Any thoughts?

Also, Revis!Glen is still difficult to write.

Lastly, thank you for reading!


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